[ There are a couple of times that Claude's regretted stepping into one of these doors. But he doesn't think that any of them as been as immediate as this one.
[harrow can be found in the courtyard, sitting at one of the tables, chin in hand, looking a bit tired. she's back to her ordinary black clothes and bones.]
[harrow can be found sometime on monday exploring the city of ankheen. where the ribcage corset is usually around her waist, she instead has what appears to be an actual pair of ribs, pointed at the ends like claws, jutting out of the front of her chest, and a spine-like exoskeleton running up her back. her eyes, large in her especially skeletal face, are glowing a bright gold.
despite this horror show, she seems especially small and lost among all of the shadows and shapes of the market.]
[ Love the aesthetic, Harrow. Claude is also here—ghostly and difficult to see, his body made out of a murky fog. He's still solid to the touch though, and his clothes remain the same as always.
He looks at her curiously. ]
That's quite the appearance, Harrow. A not-so-subtle nod to your necromancy?
[ Welcome to Summer Dorm! We're going crashing into a memory.
The scrapes burn across your legs and your sides as you lie on the grass, eyes turned toward the sky. The grass tickles your bare feet, the evening wind cool enough to soothe your aches where the dirt road had dragged against your legs, and where the rope around your wrists had rubbed the skin raw. You're used to your father's efforts to mold your behaviour into something greater than you are, and while it hasn't helped your manners any, you've gotten remarkably good at emerging relatively unscathed.
The bruises that mottle your abdomen and face are from something else entirely, already starting to fade. It's something that might've left you spitting mad when you were younger, but now, almost fifteen, you've learned how to keep your calm.
Along the borders of Almyra, the war makes heroes at the expense of families and children. You don't know about the orphans and casualties yet, about the tragedy and strife that haunts them, you only know of the brave that venture out to the Throat, earning glory with the blood of women and men.
Your brother is one such star. He'd left for the border at the age of sixteen, spending five years making a name for himself before returning to the capital to receive thanks from the king. He's young and handsome, enchanting the women and children of the palace, and he hates you down to his core.
So he requests to spar with you in the evening, with an axe to the back. And he offers up a demonstration of his leadership skills, by arranging that his companions do the same. This, too, once burned rage in your chest, potent and furious, and you once screamed and shouted until you realized that it never made a difference. But now, like your father's discipline, you've learned the best way to survive these situations is to keep hold of your temper.
Normally it's a point of pride for you, that you're clever and slippery enough to rob others of the satisfaction they want out of your blood, but this time, after a match with your brother's cronies, when you catch his eye, you don't see the anger or hate. You see disappointment that cools into disgust, as though you were being tested, and you failed.
"Nothing ever changes with you, does it."
That, for some reason, infuriates you.
Which is why you slip poison into his wine at dinner, knowing full well that there could only be no other culprits when he kneels over onto his plate. You couldn't even feign remorse when your father had turned his furious gaze toward you.
You don't feel it even now, as you push yourself up onto your feet, thinking about the quiet darkness around you, and the golden lights of the palace in the distance. You realize you feel nothing toward the sight of it, toward your home or your family. So your gaze returns to the stars and you follow them west. And suddenly, you wonder to yourself if perhaps your brother was right. Maybe you do need to change.
[they are fun. she's touching a hand to her back, her teeth worrying at her lip.]
Quite. [still, as much as she wants to ignore what she saw, in hopes he'll do the same to her...] Do you regret what you did, then? Or was it necessary?
...Yes. I've caught up on several investigations. The simulation room had math equations, the opium den had an odd smell, and the lobby was slippery. Additionally, Hope was found in the courtyard, and Mikazuki in the spa had a dream related to the game hide and seek.
[so there's been a lot.]
Did you experience anything odd? I know he told me he intended to stay the night with you.
[harrow's room is bad. it is like the darkest, gothest, most uncomfortable monastery you’ve ever seen, with a very dark and witchy vibe but also not comfortable or nice at all. it's lit only by candles and the only decoration is bones. there’s a fairly large bed with a dark veil all around it, it looks dramatic but it’s not very soft. the decor of the bed is bone themed as well. there’s an old fashioned wood writing desk with some paper, pens, and books, weirdly a couple titty mags. in the corner there’s a little chair (bone themed) for reading in, and a fairly small closet that contains a lot of black outfits and a little station for doing face paint.
other than that there’s just a lot of skeletons all around? some complete skeletons, some bone fragments or broken skeletons, some skeletons just hanging from the ceiling. other skeletons just in a pile on the floor.
harrow is sitting up in bed, unusually for her not wearing any face paint but with a skull drawn in blood on her face (like the icon).]
Of course I'm resting. I'm not foolish about these things as some are.
[ Claude is standing at the edge of town, looking into the woods. There's a deer grazing that he can spot from here, and he glances between it and Harrow. ]
You're a little nervous around animals, aren't you?
week 0, monday, ? room 18
There they go... falling. ]
Shit!!
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What an embarrassing way to die.
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They're really letting us dwell on it too. Or giving us time for any last prayers?
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week 1, monday, prism / purikura studio
Claude, a ye olde, ] I think this is an arcade.
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[she goes and pokes the purikura machine.]
The last game I played, Lup and I nearly killed one another.
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[ he gives her a concerned look before poking his head past the curtain of the purikura booth ]
Or... not. Whatever it is, let's hope it's not as deadly.
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w1; friday
...Ah. Claude.
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[ He nods his head in greeting, also looking a little tired. There are some faint scratches on his face. ]
Gathering your strength for tomorrow?
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[despite herself, she gives him a small smile.]
...Your face. Did something happen?
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week 1, saturday, somewhere
He nods at her. ]
Harrow. You worked hard today.
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I always work hard. It doesn't bear mentioning.
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week 2; monday
despite this horror show, she seems especially small and lost among all of the shadows and shapes of the market.]
What is this...?
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He looks at her curiously. ]
That's quite the appearance, Harrow. A not-so-subtle nod to your necromancy?
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week 3, tuesday, wiwaldi / summer dorm
The bruises that mottle your abdomen and face are from something else entirely, already starting to fade. It's something that might've left you spitting mad when you were younger, but now, almost fifteen, you've learned how to keep your calm.
Along the borders of Almyra, the war makes heroes at the expense of families and children. You don't know about the orphans and casualties yet, about the tragedy and strife that haunts them, you only know of the brave that venture out to the Throat, earning glory with the blood of women and men.
Your brother is one such star. He'd left for the border at the age of sixteen, spending five years making a name for himself before returning to the capital to receive thanks from the king. He's young and handsome, enchanting the women and children of the palace, and he hates you down to his core.
So he requests to spar with you in the evening, with an axe to the back. And he offers up a demonstration of his leadership skills, by arranging that his companions do the same. This, too, once burned rage in your chest, potent and furious, and you once screamed and shouted until you realized that it never made a difference. But now, like your father's discipline, you've learned the best way to survive these situations is to keep hold of your temper.
Normally it's a point of pride for you, that you're clever and slippery enough to rob others of the satisfaction they want out of your blood, but this time, after a match with your brother's cronies, when you catch his eye, you don't see the anger or hate. You see disappointment that cools into disgust, as though you were being tested, and you failed.
"Nothing ever changes with you, does it."
That, for some reason, infuriates you.
Which is why you slip poison into his wine at dinner, knowing full well that there could only be no other culprits when he kneels over onto his plate. You couldn't even feign remorse when your father had turned his furious gaze toward you.
You don't feel it even now, as you push yourself up onto your feet, thinking about the quiet darkness around you, and the golden lights of the palace in the distance. You realize you feel nothing toward the sight of it, toward your home or your family. So your gaze returns to the stars and you follow them west. And suddenly, you wonder to yourself if perhaps your brother was right. Maybe you do need to change.
Claude rubs his head. ]
These are so fun.
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Quite. [still, as much as she wants to ignore what she saw, in hopes he'll do the same to her...] Do you regret what you did, then? Or was it necessary?
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week 3, saturday
Hey, heard anything strange yet?
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...Yes. I've caught up on several investigations. The simulation room had math equations, the opium den had an odd smell, and the lobby was slippery. Additionally, Hope was found in the courtyard, and Mikazuki in the spa had a dream related to the game hide and seek.
[so there's been a lot.]
Did you experience anything odd? I know he told me he intended to stay the night with you.
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week 4; monday
This place is so interesting...
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Is it a shopping mall?
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week 4, thursday
I'm glad to see you resting.
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[harrow's room is bad. it is like the darkest, gothest, most uncomfortable monastery you’ve ever seen, with a very dark and witchy vibe but also not comfortable or nice at all. it's lit only by candles and the only decoration is bones. there’s a fairly large bed with a dark veil all around it, it looks dramatic but it’s not very soft. the decor of the bed is bone themed as well. there’s an old fashioned wood writing desk with some paper, pens, and books, weirdly a couple titty mags. in the corner there’s a little chair (bone themed) for reading in, and a fairly small closet that contains a lot of black outfits and a little station for doing face paint.
other than that there’s just a lot of skeletons all around? some complete skeletons, some bone fragments or broken skeletons, some skeletons just hanging from the ceiling. other skeletons just in a pile on the floor.
harrow is sitting up in bed, unusually for her not wearing any face paint but with a skull drawn in blood on her face (like the icon).]
Of course I'm resting. I'm not foolish about these things as some are.
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week 5, monday, realm
You're a little nervous around animals, aren't you?
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I'm not nervous around that thing. I'm not nervous at all.
[she is tho.]
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week 7, tuesday
he's standing outside one of the shadow rooms. ]
This looks more ominous in person.
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